Epoqué
by Virgil's Student
Summary: Harry and Ruth are sent away together for a weekend mission. The most gentle way I envision these two getting it together. Kudos own all Spooks characters, although I can't see Harry and Ros liking that scenario much. Spoilers for Season 8.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a fic I've been thinking about for some time. Most scenarios in which I envision Harry and Ruth getting together are dramatic and angsty, in keeping with the fact that they're characters in a drama.**

But these two people have been through so much already, I wanted to take a pass at them falling into each others' arms more naturally. I chose to do it by having them spend time together away from the rest of the team but still in the context of work, which is something I could see happening. I wanted them to get together in the most natural, gentle way possible. With two people who love each other who share such understanding, sometimes that's just how it works out.

I'm not much of a romantic, so the success of this fic may be negligible. I blame it on the fact that I've just watched two of my best friends get married this last weekend, and I wrote the bulk of it during that time. So this is for two people who inspire me with their love and commitment - Courtney and Heath. Thankfully, they do have things worked out much better than our beloved spooks. 

* * *

Ruth seethed. But quietly; it wasn't as though she wanted to disturb anyone else and show them just how much this bothered her. Harry was running late that morning, and Ros had started the morning briefing in his absence. The Section Chief was detailing security arrangements for the upcoming conference of the Heads of the European Security Services and had casually referred to the briefing of the DG which was to take place in the two days immediately prior to the main conference. Certain Section Heads and relevant personnel were to go up early to stay and prepare, a fate which Ruth and others had hoped to avoid. Most of them would. Only she and Harry would be required to go up early to brief the upper echelon of Five's movers and shakers. This was bad enough. But worse was the fact that Ruth had found out in such a desultory manner along with the rest of the team. Harry had neglected to tell her.

The briefing broke up, Tariq and Lucas laughing at the idea of Harry and the other Section heads trying to amuse themselves at the lodge in _________. It was one of those ancient houses that reeked of old money and an England before the Great War. It was filled with rooms where one could imagine very easily a group of middle aged men gathering to talk matters of espionage and state secrets, followed by an evening of even more male, middle aged entertainment. Mostly naked women with dollars stuffed in lace underwear and crowned with coloured wigs.

"Nah, that's your scene, mate!" Tariq guffawed. "I can't see Harry with other old men watching...."

Ros interjected. "Yeah OK boys - we get the visual. Ruth, Harry wants to talk to you when he gets back about what your presentation to this lot once you get up there and your arrangements." She turned her head to face Tariq once again. "Make no mistake it does happen, the girls, but it's more likely to be in private rooms rather than the big ballrooms. For some reason men only like looking at naked women in claustrophobic conditions. It makes them feel like it's actually illicit rather than at a state sponsored event."

Lucas grinned. "Some of the best intelligence gathered in this business is when we listen in on men gawking at pretty girls. It seems to make them very chatty."

Ruth tried to smile and engage in the conversation. "The problem is, though, that I think some of them are onto us with that technique. I'm not sure how effective it might be after a certain point in proceedings."

Lucas looked Ros firmly in the eye. "We'll just have to make sure the bait is especially good this time."

Harry had been back for almost an hour and Ruth could no longer put it off. She had spent the interim trying to shake off her anger with Harry. Why on earth hadn't he told her? When it came to work he was exhaustive in the detail outlined for her. But the slightest change to routine and he wasn't nearly so forthcoming. In truth she was worried - there was no way Harry could have forgotten the last time they were in a hotel together. Havensworth, 3 years ago now. Then Ruth sighed. He probably HAD forgotten. So much had happened, there was no chance they could have anything approaching a happy ending now.....

She picked up the files she was planning to return to the Registry. She wanted to go somewhere after seeing Harry where she could rearrange her thoughts without him watching them cross her expressive face. She crossed the Grid, deliberately avoiding Ros' gaze, not realising how agitated her walk had become. She swept into Harry's office without knocking and was angered to find him smiling at her, as of old. She spoke, with feeling.

"Ros said you wanted to see me? About the conference?"

Harry tried to wipe the smile from his face. "Yes, although I'm also interested in why you've been knocking things over for the last half hour."

Ruth grimaced. "Nothing at all, just an especially frustrating colleague who isn't that great with communication." She looked him squarely in the eye. "The conference, Harry."

It was his turn to sigh now. "I'm sorry you had to hear it from Ros, Ruth. I was planning to tell you myself when I got here, but I was late and she didn't know. I only found out myself very late last night when the DG called me at home. And I had to talk to Ros about what needs to be done in my absence." He smiled at her, and against her will she found herself softening towards him. Harry stood up, and walked around his desk so that he faced her. "I would have called you myself last night, but I wanted to tell you in person. About the trip. I'm sorry you have to lose your weekend."

Ruth couldn't help but smile back at him, especially when he held her gaze as he did now. It was a moment straight out of a bad romance - when they looked into the other's eyes, it was as though no-one else existed. There was a reason such moments became cliches in the first place.

Ruth roused herself, the silence troubling her eventually. "You need to brief me on what the DJ wants to hear from me. The new profiling methods perhaps? And maybe the changes I've made to risk assessment grading on a week by week basis?"

Harry sighed again. There seemed to be a lot of that going on in the Grid that day. "Yes, and some other things. I'll make up a list for you in the next hour and Tariq has a reasonably light day so you can draft some of your smaller tasks to him while you prepare. We need to head over tonight as we're both presenting to the DG and other Section heads tomorrow first thing, and then to the Heads of the various security services the next day. I'll pick you up tonight at yours - 8.30? You can be out of here by half five, I promise."

She nodded. "If you can get me a full list as soon as you can, I can get started. We can go over it once we get to ______ tonight on the way down and once get there. We'll manage." She left hastily, trying not to think about a night in Harry's company outside of the Grid.

* * *

Ruth had spent the last few hours running in circles, trying to do washing, write a presentation and pack all at once. She tried not to think too hard about the fact that she was cramming her newly washed intimates into a bag that had last been used in her dash from Cyprus that last day of sunshine. And here she was, packing her meagre belongings to go and play an extra string to Harry's bow for the benefit of the brass. Every time she thought she had her life figured out, the old spectre would raise its head. Harry, at every turn. No matter how far she went, no matter how much time passed, he remained there and she stood here, the river wide between them. At some point, it was a situation that had to be confronted. She stopped in the doorway, the last load of laundry in her arms, wondering how this weekend could possibly be any different. How the impossible could be resolved. It was only as the doorbell rang that she came to her senses and threw the last of the washing into her getaway bag. This time, she hoped she was running towards something, rather than running away.

* * *

The drive down had been pleasant enough, a little tense, but work had helped to smooth the way, as it always did. They sat at the bar, eating the sandwiches that served as their dinner, having arrived close to 11 at night. Unusually, Ruth was drinking the same single malt that Harry was enjoying. Harry reflected that he had never seen her drink scotch, and wondered if it was a habit she had picked up in exile. She smiled into her glass, not meeting his eyes, almost as though she knew what he was thinking.

"My father drank scotch. He was especially partial to Lagavulin and Glenlivit. He used to let me sneak a sip when my mother wasn't looking. On special occasions only, of course."

Harry looked down at the bar, absent-mindedly sweeping some crumbs away from the mat. "It's unusual for you to talk about your father."

Ruth nursed her whiskey and shrugged. "Neither of us like to talk family, Harry. Something we have in common."

He caught her eye, unwilling to let the moment pass. "Amongst many other things."

Ruth held his gaze, but refused to leave safe ground so easily. She changed the subject promptly. "I was down this way last weekend, you know. Not so far, but I went to Oxfordshire. Visited my old haunts."

Harry groaned inwardly, wishing she had taken the bait. Instead he took what he could get. "I used to tramp around those fields and woods too - not always sober, I'll admit. But there's a timelessness to the region - it's easy to be nostalgic for that part of the world."

Ruth smiled. It was the smile of a woman who has looked into the void and seen more than her share of pain, but who also knew beauty when she saw it. "It is. I stood in the quadrangle and it was as though time stood still. How many thousands of students have wandered through that small section of land, worrying about exams, obsessing over a new love, panicking over a future that may not even come." She grinned wickedly. "And then the undergraduates on their way home from a big night out threw up and the mood was rather spoiled."

Harry laughed out loud. Few people could make him do that these days. "The prosaic realities of university life, Ruth. But was it just a trip down memory lane?"

Ruth's smile vanished. "No, I went down for a reason. My old classics professor died two years ago. I came down to visit his grave, bring flowers. To mourn him. He was my friend for many years - he wasn't just a reference for me."

The silence hung heavy between them. Both were thinking of another man Ruth should have been able to mourn, but whose body was returned to Greece with a false death certificate and coroner's report. There had been no grave to weep over, no memorial to visit. Harry broke the stillness, unable to bear her thinking over that day's awful events, months ago now.

"It was a fine reference, as I recall. I think he almost considered you a muse."

It was Ruth's turn to laugh now. "A little. I suppose I appreciated his eccentricities. But had you said as much, he would have lectured you at length about the origins of the term and Greek mythology at large."

Harry poured himself another measure of whiskey and waved the bottle at Ruth, who nodded. "All classics teachers are the same, it seems." He topped up her glass, returned the bottle to the bar, and then sipped his own before he spoke again. "I did wonder why I didn't see you last weekend." Ruth flinched a little and Harry hurried to correct his implied mistake. "Not that you should have been in, of course, it was just unusual."

They sipped in silence for a few moments, Ruth feeling comfortable in his presence for now. This was the way it always was between them. Work, more work, a few snatched moments of intimacy and then a wedge driven between them with sudden force. How long could this dance continue? It would, Harry thought, be nice to hold her while he still had teeth and hair. But for now it was enough to be together, with the promise of a few days apart from the others.

Ruth pondered Harry's choice of words. Nostalgia, he had said. It was a word that literally meant to ache for something, the pain associated with something lost that you wished to revisit. Her own classics lecture played in her diligent mind. That suffering seemed so strong right now, in a hotel together. She could only hope that the history repeating itself this weekend would be the good parts, and not the chances lost.

****************************

**I hope this is working. Please review and let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for such a positive response to what I think is a really self indulgent exercise. It's very much an experiment on my part.**

I wanted this fic to be drama free, but in order for these guys to get together, I think George has to rear his ugly head again. Not that he's ugly in a literal way, but.....you get my drift.

Please review. There might be happy stuff to come if you do! 

Ruth smoothed her skirt fretfully and then returned her attention to the digital projector, making sure it was plugged in. She flicked through the slides to make sure her presentation was ready one final time and then resisted the urge to finish the cup of coffee she had foolishly brought with her from breakfast. No more, she told herself sternly. This was the most public of these things she had conducted since returning from Cyprus, and she felt like a prize pig on display at the county fair. The secondary objective of such a briefing was a test for the Section; to demonstrate to the DG and other people who mattered that the Service's sterling was being well spent. It would never be admitted, but she and Harry were there not only for briefing purposes, but also for politics. At least they had each other, she comforted herself. And then blushed at the implication.

Her colour was still heightened as Harry followed a waiter into the room. He carried a cup of coffee and a few files, but nothing that belied the importance of what was about to take place. He smiled at her. "It's not a problem, Ruth," he chided her, as the waiter meddled with water jugs and glasses. "This is a stocktake meeting, not a state of the union. They'll be too busy trying to absorb what you're saying to worry about messing with figures and numbers just yet."

Ruth smiled back wanly. "I never got used to these. I'm staying for yours, aren't I?"

Harry nodded, averting his eyes as he said firmly: "Yes. I need your help very much."

* * *

It was not often Harry had the opportunity to just listen to Ruth, without needing to absorb what she was saying. Usually he was forced to concentrate on the content of her speech, either because work dictated he must, or because he was engaged in conversation with her. But now the musical lilt of her voice was sufficient. She hid her nerves more than adequately, but he discerned the tell - the occasional nervous flick of her hands as she explained the benefits of the new face recognition software that was Tariq's first born. Unbeknownst to Harry, Ruth was privately squirming under his gaze - disconcerted by his attentions and trying to focus on the material at hand. But in truth, had he known, it was unlikely he would have changed his behaviour. It was simply too good a prospect to pass over, and Harry settled himself more firmly into the black leather chair as his analyst dimmed the lights. He knew there would be scantily clad girls in various rooms all over the hotel in the the ensuing days. But he would rather have remained in this room, the tame voyeur observing a fully dressed Ruth, than for every lap dance offered in every room. He brazenly watched her with undisguised longing - the first time he had done so since she returned. It was silly and maudlin and unprofessional. But it was enough to watch this woman he loved, whom he had never expected to see again. Yet here she was, and for the next half hour Harry was as close to content as he had been in years. A lapse in time, with no-one depending on him for guidance and direction, no-one in immediate danger. Just Ruth's luminous eyes and her lyrical voice. It was more than enough for now.

After their meeting had concluded, the party broke up. Ruth gathered her materials and swept from the room, anxious to leave Harry's presence as soon as possible. It was a confused Harry who wandered through the remainder of the day, trying to recall what he could possibly have done for her to avoid him so completely.

Late that night, he strolled the grounds of the hotel. The various delegations would arrive the next morning, and with most of Five and Six's people closeted in their rooms, the gardens were safe to roam. For a few moments, he was able to throw off the shackles of the day. He tried to remember the last time he had visited a hotel, and with a jolt he remembered. Havensworth. There had been safe houses and motels when he was required to be out of town for work purposes, but the last time he had been in an honest-to-goodness hotel had been that fateful conference for Africa. Tragic though it had been, the clearest memory of those few days remained that moment in a darkened hall with Ruth, when for a moment all had seemed possible. He sighed and headed inside, knowing now, at least in part, what might be bothering her.

He approached his door, the silence along the corridor oppressive until a curse was uttered as Ruth stumbled out of her room at the end, just a few feet down. She was flushed and clearly angry, and caught sight of Harry a full few seconds after he spotted her. They both froze, imitating statues, as the memories hit them in a wave. They had been here before.

"Harry." Ruth swallowed. "I was going to see Housekeeping - it's a little stifling in my room."

Harry resisted the urge to point out that such an inquiry could be made by telephone. "Is there something wrong, Ruth?"

Initially, it seemed as though she would not speak, and she made to return to her room. Then something broke within her, and the self imposed taboo evaporated.

"Of course there's something wrong, Harry! There always is. You can't watch me like that anymore and especially not while I'm lecturing the DG on the benefits of various profiling techniques. You're not allowed to look at me like that - see, you're doing it again now...."

Harry walked toward her, his concrete gaze weighing her down, his naked want evident on his face. Her eyes widened as she babbled and he approached, but this time he did not stop. Rather, he caught her arm and escorted her firmly into her room. "Harry....." she feebly protested, but he cut her off.

"Normally I wouldn't invite myself into your room, Ruth, but I think it's best we continue this without the possibility of being overheard."

She shrugged angrily. "There's nothing to say, Harry. It's been said before. Stop watching me. Please leave."

His eyes had already scanned the room. The open bottle of wine, with one glass nearby, marked gently but indelibly with her lipstick. Several open books. A laptop switched on, in use with music playing softly in the background. Stormy Shostakovich. All spoke of a Ruth in turmoil, unable to settle down to any one task.

He took the customary deep breath. "Ruth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." He held her gaze, willing her to understand just how much he meant this.

"We've been over this, Harry." She raised her arms in a gesture of frustration. "You said it, remember? I don't want to go over it again. There's nothing else to say. George died. You're sorry. I came back to work." Her normally blue eyes had turned grey, as they so often did when she was distressed. "For that I know you're not sorry."

Harry struggled, but said what he knew needed to be said if they were ever to move forward. He capitulated to the the need to comfort her, rather than to his need to stay safe and silent. "Ruth, I am sorry. For Mani, for my actions that day, for your pain. If it had meant you could have stayed happy in Cyprus, I wish they had shot me dead earlier that day as they pretended to. If it had meant you not seeing me that way and saying what you did, I wish to God they had."

The softly uttered oath to a god he didn't really believe in recalled Ruth to his pain. She knew his words to be true, but her gunpowder eyes threatened to ignite as they flashed in anger and hurt.

"It was Mani, Harry. I understand that. But please leave. Now."

Harry turned at the door. His last stand.

"Ruth." He couldn't look at her while he said it. "I can't say what might have happened had it gone on longer. But.....", he faltered, and then sought her eyes, "when Mani went for you with that knife - I was so frightened. How long a secret might have stayed with me with a knife at your throat I wouldn't like to think."

He couldn't discern her thoughts, but Ruth's face fell. Harry couldn't manage a moment longer; he left the room abruptly, leaving a distressed woman nursing the child that was her pain.

* * *

**Honestly, it might get better if you tell how me how you feel. You know I always do......**


	3. Chapter 3

**My argument for this next chapter is that people ultimately have to find a way to move on, whether it's because they work together or because they love each other, and both of these are true in this case.**

This one's for Bea, who had a very long weekend x 

* * *

How they both managed any sleep at all was a mystery. Ruth tossed and turned and eventually cried - for George, for Harry, for chances lost and futures missed. Across and slightly down the hall, Harry wept. Any glimmer of hope he had held was extinguished that night, he thought. But he had said his piece. He could do no more. Now all he could hope for was some glimpse of redemption, that might make it possible to look in the mirror once more and count to ten without turning away.

Ruth splashed cold water on her face, as she dressed many hours earlier than she needed to. In truth, Harry's final sentence to her the night before was one she had needed to hear. His original apology, while heartfelt, was made in the early days of her return to England and was as much an absolution of guilt as anything else. This time, it was something more. It was the acknowledgement that she had lived a life while in exile, and that his placing trust in her once upon a time was indirectly responsible for that life's destruction. But Harry had also told her what had remained unspoken all these months since her return. He loved her still. Not in as many words, but the point had been tacitly made. He was hers, and once again, nothing was changing. They continued to circle one another like boxers in the ring.

She went through the motions of getting ready. Ruth knew all this; none of this came as a surprise. There was no denying anymore that this was a passion that kept them up at night, that absorbed too many of their waking moments. She had loved George, that was immutable. But it was only a shadow of the love that made her tremble as Harry had admitted his truth last night. She knew it to be true.

Ruth looked at her troubled reflection and didn't flinch. They had loved then, and they loved now. Surely the guilt had all been felt already, the apologies had all been said - there came a point when she said 'enough'.

"We've suffered enough."

She murmured this into the mirror, her conscience the only audience. None of it could be easy, and the future was empty, but if they had each other maybe they had a chance. Then she sighed. How many more chances could they have? They would continue to waltz, rather like a couple in a Depression era dance marathon, who kept moving out of sheer determination to survive, hoping to still be holding onto one another at the end.

* * *

Harry and Ruth were once again drafted in to give their presentations to larger groups, this time including various Section Heads and dignitaries from other European security services. There was initial frostiness, not helped by the fact that they were forced to sit next to each together all morning, but the afternoon saw a late thaw. They parted in their typical courtly fashion; Harry relieved the day had gone better than he had dared hope, Ruth hoping she had been cordial but not forward. Harry dressed for his formal dinner, while Ruth settled herself in for a night with some of the files Tariq had sent her to work on. She popped in the USB that had been couriered over just for her benefit and settled down to work in her pyjamas and robe with a glass of wine. The wifi reception in her room left much to be desired, and once dressed down for the night she was loathed to get geared up again. It was, she reflected, Saturday night. So she had slipped quietly into the common room set aside for the use of Section D and the other counter terrorism units. She was alone with her work, and looked forward to a few hours of peace in the morning before she and Harry headed back to London in the late afternoon.

She had been at it for some hours and finished the bottle of wine when the door opened and she was surprised to see Harry, who was wrestling with his bow tie. He paused when he saw Ruth twisting in her seat at his intrusion and his eyes twinkled as he took in her casual apparel.

"You after changing the dress code, Ruth?"

She tried to laugh and drew her robe closer, all too conscious of the fact that she wasn't wearing a brassiere. "I didn't have proper reception in my room and wanted to get some work done. And you were all in the dining room - for a few more hours, I thought."

Harry sat across from her and stretched his legs out as he continued to struggle with his collar and tie.

"I simply tired of the constant politicking - I'd had enough for one evening. I'd won the important arguments early on and I just had no wish to remain caught between the DG and _____ in another round of hungry, hungry hippos. I get enough of that in London. Where are all the other analysts?"

Ruth directed her attention back towards her laptop screen, finding Harry's twitching with his collar both beguiling and annoying in equal parts. "There weren't that many of us who stayed beyond this morning - most went back after breakfast. There are a few downstairs playing gin rummy very poorly," she glanced at the surveillance monitor, "and the rest went out to the local pub, I think."

By this time Harry had fully twisted his bowtie round on itself several times and Ruth was tired of watching him. She looked him in the eye. "Do you need a hand with that? I didn't realise you were so anxious to get undressed."

He smiled, but before he could protest that he was more than capable, she was bending over him, the scent of whatever she wore right under his nose, her hair dangling loose and free in his face. "Tilt your head back, Harry." Her voice was tinged with impatience, but her fingers quavered a little as she reached under his chin. "I'm surprised you wear a clip-on."

Harry grimaced. "The others are prone to come loose at strange moments. Why are you working on Section files, Ruth? It wasn't necessary, I told you."

She waved her hand impatiently at his question, and instead swiftly removed the bow tie and tossed it carelessly to one side. Harry tried not to think how it might feel for her to undress him fully under other circumstances as she discarded the stiff collar and then tugged at his jacket.

"If you're getting relaxed you should take that damn thing off too. I don't know how you all wear them so long." She turned and retreated to the bar where she knew Harry could no longer see her face. Behind her, Harry hesitated only a moment before removing his jacket and answering as nonchalantly as possible.

"It's because women are so much nicer to us when we wear them."

Ruth turned around, a tumbler of Scotch in either hand, extending one toward him. "It's true that men should just wear suits all the time."

She regained her seat and sipped. She once again drew her robe closer, glancing downward to see how exposed she really was. They were modest, satin feel pyjamas, with simple ballet flats in the place of slippers - hardly revealing, but she still felt naked in his presence and was grateful he had shrugged out of the worst of his formal wear. Once again, they had shared a moment. Was now the time to be brave? So soon after last night? She swallowed and raised her head to meet his watching eyes.

"It's allright, Harry."

He nodded and, almost pleading, added what he had forgotten the night before. "You know I haven't forgiven myself, Ruth? I never shall."

She nodded in her turn. "Just as I never shall for roping him into my life without his knowledge. It's done, Harry." She looked away and drained her glass before speaking again. "We find a way to live with it. With each other."

She gathered her things, willing the laptop to shut down faster after saving her work.

Harry croaked "Ruth, I....it's always been so hard. Always. Stalemate, followed by trench warfare. There's nothing in between. I don't know what normality looks like."

Ruth thought carefully about what she wanted to say as stacked her things hastily and prayed they wouldn't fall out of her arms as she made her exit. It was her turn to make a speech.

"Harry, we can't do this anymore. One way or another it's time to make a choice. If we're going to do anything, it needs to be soon and we have to believe that we're doing something, going somewhere we haven't been before. We've both been through enough personal wars to know it's not easy, but it can't be any harder than this guilt and fear we live with. It can't be."

She turned and walked to the door, but then realised she couldn't open it with her arms full. She mentally chastised herself and was making for the door handle with her elbow when Harry's hand beat her to it. It opened slowly and his voice was low as he asked "What if it's not enough? If we can't....?"

His question hung in the air, unfinished, but she chose to answer it as she stepped into the corridor.

"Our eyes are open, Harry. We don't have unlimited chances and this time I'm not getting on a boat. I won't run."

She walked away slowly, juggling her load, while Harry watched her from the doorway, his chest constricting with emotion. He suddenly found he could breathe again.

* * *

**Hope this isn't too mad. Please leave your thoughts - I really do pay attention. **


	4. Chapter 4

**The fourth and final chapter of what will probably be my last ever straight romance fic. I'm not cut out for it.**

I would really appreciate your reviews and constructive criticism, either here or via PM. I spend many hours putting these together, and it takes so little time for you to tell me what you think. Thanks to my regular readers for their support.

* * *

They were still an hour outside of London and the small talk had been exhausted long ago. Not that Harry and Ruth regularly indulged in small talk. They understood that conversation was an art, to be made only when they had something worth discussing. But the previous night's weight hung heavy on their hearts, so they mumbled pleasantries and then moved on to work. Or, at least, the work topics they could discuss in the car. Then it was a waiting game, as Harry found his courage and Ruth waited for him to be ready.

Predictably, however, the final part of the journey passed in relative silence. They were both lost in their own thoughts, yet acutely conscious of the other's nearness. Harry was still wrestling with his fears and guilt. It had been so long since he had tried to just _be_ with someone in an intimate, domestic setting - he could hardly remember what it felt like. Even just the small mechanics of being with someone frightened him - was this the same man who had so casually jumped from bed to bed in his late teens and then met and married a friend who became his lover? It seemed a lifetime ago. He wasn't the same man, which could only be a good thing.

Meanwhile, Ruth was hugging herself as she gazed out the window at the sparse scenery running parallel to the highway. Her quick mind ticked over the past few years of her separate lives, both of which included the man sitting next to her. He had always been part of her, there was no denying it; no matter that she had loved George. It had always been him. But this constant circling had to stop, either they decided to be together or to let it lie. Truthfully, the tension was more wearisome than anything either option could bring.

She roused herself as they entered London. "Harry, I need to come into the Grid. I have those files I was working on, I can't take them home with me."

Harry was looking straight ahead, and his face broke into an open smile. "Ever faithful, Ruth. But how did you know I was going into work?"

Ruth looked back out of the window as the suburbs gave way to city scapes. "Habit, Harry. You haven't been on the Grid since Thursday. Your inner meglomaniac is itching to come out, I'm sure."

Harry heard the slight bitterness in her voice, and his smile vanished promptly. Was he meant to have made a move already, before they arrived back in London? 'I tripped over the first damn hurdle!' he thought miserably. 'What hope do we have long term? God, what is long term?'

They eventually entered the Thames House car park and slowly made their way upstairs, only separating when they reached the Grid. Ruth settled at her desk with a sigh, wondering how things would ever change while they were such emotional cripples. Maybe it was all too late.

* * *

Harry continued to work his way through the files waiting for him in his boxes. But occasionally his mind would drift to the woman working bare feet away from him. How to approach her? Another dinner invitation? A letter? Or should he just speak the next time one of those silences came after a suggestive moment?

He was still undecided when Ruth entered his office softly, carrying her anticipated load of files and transcripts for him to sign, approve or read. He found himself wishing there was a file with his name on it that he could just sign and stamp, bypassing the awkward moments of getting together for the first time. Then he chastised himself. He did not really want to skip over those, even the hard bits. She was separating the files into several groups for him - she knew him so well. His routines, his methods, even his thoughts. If only he could know her so well.

"You and Tariq are going to try and re-organise the registry this week aren't you? The surveillance histories?"

She nodded. "Yes, time permitting. It's been some time and I'd like to re-assess how they're categorized. On the basis of background and threat level, obviously."

Harry nodded, wondering how they had managed without her orderly mind for so long. He let her voice wash over him, but she had stopped at his contented expression.

"That is what you want, isn't it? I won't tear anything apart without consulting you first. Or at least," she smiled, "without telling you afterwards."

Harry smiled more broadly. "No, I was just wondering how we managed without you and your brilliance."

Ruth's face fell a little. Her eyes became hard as she said quietly "Yes, my mind's always been worth keeping around, hasn't it?" She turned for the door, a little ashamed of the self loathing she had just displayed. In front of Harry, no less.

His voice stopped her as she had almost reached the door.

"Brilliant though your mind is, Ruth, it's never been the only thing I've wanted in you."

He could hardly believe the words once they were out of his mouth. But it was something he had always felt deeply about Ruth; that she was a woman who saw herself as intellect and little else. A friend sometimes, perhaps, but ultimately someone whose mind was what attracted people and kept them around her.

Ruth couldn't turn around, as she heard the words in the voice she loved so well. She closed her eyes and willed him to speak further. He did, as he stepped from his chair and walked to his desk's side, leaning against it so that he was slightly shorter than her eye level.

"It might have been what made me notice you initially, but your kindness, your compassion, your....strength of opinion - that's what makes it hard for me to look away from you."

She turned to face him, but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Harry swallowed and forced himself to say what he knew she needed to hear. And what he wanted to say.

"Besides which, I like looking at you. Your beauty intrigues me. You know that, don't you?"

She twitched, almost shaking her head, not quite believing what was happening. It seemed once Harry started talking, he was determined to do the job properly. She shook a little as she asked the question that had plagued her since realizing her love for Harry was still there, a box waiting to be opened when the day arrived.

"Did you think of me? Sometimes?"

Harry almost smiled, and although she wasn't looking at him, he knew she felt that almost smile too.

"I ached for you," he said simply. "Always."

Their eyes met as she crossed the few feet so she stood in front of him. She had to bend slightly to kiss him, her hair dangling once again in his face. It was a sweeter moment than the night before, and it lasted longer. At first a hesitant kiss, gradually becoming more passionate as they both realised what was happening. Harry took her by the waist as he rose himself to his full height, Ruth now standing on her toes to reach him. They bumped each other slightly as they found how to hold each other, the small crooks of the other's body in which they might fit. The familiarity of intimacy, as it began for them there in Harry's office. It was just them in the stillness and quiet of the Grid on weekends, the only sound being their laboured breathing as they shared what was only their second kiss. But as they nestled closer to one another, it was as though a significant number of their fears fell away. They broke apart slightly, and Harry clasped her smaller, softer hands in his older, well worn ones.

"I shouldn't have doubted that once I was touching you, this would all seem so much easier."

Ruth looked away a little as she laughed softly and then gazed back at him, her eyes shining with the light of newly discovered love. "Yes, well...we neither of us need much, really. Outside of work. We're hardly high maitenance people, you and I."

Harry saw a chance for his opening salvo. "I'm...out of practice, Ruth. Terribly so. I'm not completely sure what you might need...or want....so sometimes, you might need to....tell me."

Ruth saw his dejected pose, and recognized the fear of not being good enough. "I've never been much good at it either, Harry, but we'll manage. We manage at work, don't we?"

He nodded, but looked downcast, not quite knowing how to articulate the worries that plagued him.

Ruth spoke again. "I like to be kissed, Harry. Often. And everywhere." She smiled at her own audacity but pushed on. "And sometimes, it would be nice to have meals outside the Grid, I think. And when you do eventually stay over, I think you should stay the night, not sneak out before the sun comes up."

Now he laughed begrudgingly at that last comment. "Perhaps this is...easier....than we've always made it out to be."

"Perhaps," Ruth replied, removing her hands from his, and putting her arms around his waist so that she could hold him more closely. "I like to think it might be different."

Harry kissed the top of her head, trying to work out what her scent was. It was familiar, but mysterious - quite perfect, really. He spoke softly into the top of her head. "Holding you like this makes me think it might just be possible. A life outside this place, I mean. That we might make it happen."

Ruth squeezed him and said aloud the only adage that had helped her get to this point. "We take it slowly, day by day. And we talk about things, like adults. That's what grown-ups do."

Harry pulled her out of the hug but still held her hands. He was reluctant to relinquish his hold on her so soon. "So what do grown-ups do? Now, I mean?"

Ruth sighed slightly, and leant back against the desk. "You get some confidence in us and I learn to trust you. But for now, I'll settle for you giving me a lift home and a kiss at the door."

Harry slipped an arm around her and smiled, kissing her cheek swiftly. "I think I can manage that. There are still things I need to tell you."

* * *

**Whatever happens, in my next fic, Harry and Ruth will be a couple. No more of this trying to hook them up. I want to know what comes next! **


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